Posts Tagged ‘ zoo ’

Xanax on Mother’s Day? Maybe…

Sunday, May 12th, 2013

On Friday I was thinking that sitting in a corner taking Xanax might be the perfect Mother’s Day for me. This, after Emmett peed on my leg like I was a fire hydrant (he was naked as I was about to put him in the bath). Then giggled.

The day only got better.

I had to take Wayne to the vet. And Emmett. And Fia.  As I was being told Wayne once again is obese, and no longer my Biggest Loser, Emmett took a pack of crayons and threw them at the cat. Of course this spooked Wayne and fur went flying. Once again, Em laughs. Fia starts screaming “Emmett, don’t do that.” The vet looked at me and said, “Let me get the receptionist to start working on your bill so we can get you out of here quickly.”  Clearly I’m their favorite client. I bribed Fia with a lolipop and Em with his pacifier to just sit the f-ck still.

When we got home I gave Wayne a treat in his bowl. I turned my back for a second. Emmett came running out of the room with the ceramic bowl, threw it across the room where it shattered, then began laughing. He may actually be insane. But insanely happy too. This all happened before 11 a.m.

Do I deserve Xanax? Yes. Maybe 5.

Regardless of how I celebrate my day, I figured posting pictures would help calm me down. And it does. So here goes. I’m taking the rest of the weekend off.

Happy Mother’s Day, Everyone!

Okay, so maybe he looks a little like a barking seal in this picture. After all, we were at the zoo. But I just love how happy he looks. Man, did I get a good one (except that he is WILD)! Pure joy, this boy.

Emmett’s first carousel ride. Clearly he hates it.

Fia on her favorite giraffe!

Both of my babies.

At friend Lazlo’s birthday party

Bubble Time

Alone on the high beam–and giving me a heart attack!

Water play!

 I know I’ve posted this before, but I can’t help but do it again: my beautiful boy!

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Why I Feel No Mom Guilt Right Now…

Thursday, March 28th, 2013

I wrote my post this week about having this nagging sense of guilt whenever I leave my kids.  I had some great comments from moms who validated how I feel. Whether right or wrong, it’s nice to know you’re not the only insane one.

Then this morning I think I figured out how to NOT feel guilty: Push yourself to the absolute limit of supermom. Then your psyche won’t f–k with you and throw guilt your way. Instead, it will tell you to flee as soon as the sitter arrives. Don’t look back. Go! Which I did.

Now I am sitting here having my haircut and colored. The gray is out of control. The back looks like a mullet. After this, I am going to get my hooves–the thing most people call feet–pedicured. My hands will get a much-needed manicure. Then my husband and I are going out to dinner and to our favorite massage place. I don’t feel badly at all. The reason? Because when you spend almost all week with your kids, culminating in today’s cluster-f–k you are so ready for a break all guilt goes out the window.

We started the morning off as usual: Up at 6:30. I made eggs for them; Emmett splattered his on the floor. Fia started coloring and Emmett tried to take her crayons. He pulled her hair (his latest thing). She started wailing. This is in addition to the usual 7 head bumps he has from knocking against our table, the face plant that inevitably leads to a bloody lip at least 3 times a week and the screams of agony from them both for taunting the cat to the point of getting scratched.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Around 10, I needed to get out. We live right near Griffith Park that has just about everything. I figured the little train and pony ride would be easier than the massive zoo. We loaded up and drove down the hill.

A lot of it was great. Emmett had his first horse ride. I walked beside him, stepping in horseshit with my flip-flops. 

Then we went to ride the train. The ticket line was a mile long. We waited. And waited. We were getting close when Fia said, “Mama I have to go to the bathroom. I can’t hold it.” Crap. We left the line and ran across the parking lot so she could go pee. I dangled Emmett in one arm so he wouldn’t lick the bathroom floor. The kid is a menace. A cute one, but good god he never stops. He is into everything. This is what it means to have a boy. I had no idea.

After the bathroom Fia decided she wanted something to eat before the train ride. We stood in the longest, most inefficient line run by the Parks and Rec department. We finally got our turn. All she wanted was cheese fries. While they were apparently growing and cutting up the spuds to fry, Fia took off running and did a face plant right on the concrete. Shit. She starts bawling. My sciatica has been acting up. But being supermom, I had no choice. I picked them both up and walked back across the parking lot to the car.  I grabbed the stroller and plopped Fia in. Though Em is the one I really need to chain down.

Throughout this I remained calm. Even chipper. I deserve an Emmy.

We went back to get our food. I sat down and took a bite. The cheese fries were spicy. WTF? The sign didn’t say “spicy cheese fries.” But they are. You know, that fake nacho kind? Maybe they won’t notice. Wrong. “Mama, it’s too spicy!” Fia screamed. Emmett just threw his glob on the sidewalk where it won’t disintegrate for a century (did you know Velveeta can survive a nuclear attack? And that when they make it in the factory it’s a big gray gelatinous rectangle? In case you weren’t sure, the yellow color is fake.)

I’ve been trying to do this Mediterranean diet to keep healthy. Gloppy, goopy fake cheese is definitely not on the list. But what can I do? I sit there slowly licking blobs of cheese off, handing them the fries. It may have been the best part of my day.

Time for  the trains, then home. The ticket line is gone. Thank god. We  go up to the window. “Closed for lunch.”  Cue the wailing. I drag my now overtired, still hungry, hot, injured daughter and son to the car. I sit down as pain shoots through my lower back. I text my sitter. “Can you come tomorrow morning?”

Oh, I broke down and also got an ice cream sandwich. Emmett’s first. What a milestone!

 

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Fia Friday: Tomato Eyes

Friday, July 20th, 2012

I’m not sure where this came from, but when Fia sits on the potty, she is eye level with me (as I squat down in front). She always looks right in my eyes, and gets this ethereal look and voice and, says, “Momma, you have tomato eyes.”

At first I didn’t know where it came from, but I think her love of picking the tomatoes from our garden is the root of it. She points to the inner corner of my eye, where the tiny red ball is, and says, “Right there momma. Your tomato eyes.” So now I respond, “Yes, and who else has them?”

“Dada has tomato eyes, Wayne (cat) has tomato eyes, Emmett has tomato eyes. Everyone has tomato eyes.”

After we go through all that, I pray for the poop. But as strange (or gross) as it sounds, I kinda dig our little toilet time conversations. A lot of magical thinking comes from pushing out poop.

Oh, and note her new groovy “transformer” sunglasses. She insisted on that specific pair. We are an equal opportunity sunglass family.

Anyway, here are a few other random pictures I’ve been meaning to post.

Reading at School

I said she was more of an observer these days. She’s content though, so I’m no longer worried.

Ready for lunch! Victoria makes amazing organic meals. From scratch.

With her buddy Dylan at the LA Zoo

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Just me and fi

Tuesday, August 23rd, 2011

Me and my sweet

Me and my sweet

Hubby is in LA. My sitter got a 9-5 job. In an office (not trying to stir the pot here. Notice I didn’t say she got a “real” job). And I’m thoroughly enjoying having the place to myself. No husband. No sitter. Just me and Fi. Quiet nights of sleeping baby and relaxing mama. No television on. Not thinking about what to have for dinner.

I took her to the zoo today. The one just over in Prospect Park. It’s one of those perfect weather days with no humidity. We spent the afternoon running on trails with fresh mulch and feeding cows and llamas. When I have baby #2 I think I’ll really miss our time–of just the two of us. She is my little angel–albeit a devilish one. I’m trying to relish this chapter as much as I can. I know baby #2 will enrich all our lives. But there will never again be a time of toddlerhood with just me and Fi.

Watching the baboons

Watching the baboons

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